


curtain call

by LyraLV



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Angst, Begging, Blow Jobs, Crying, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Angst, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Oral, Overstimulation, Penetrative Sex, Smut, Table Sex, Undertale Multiverse, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraLV/pseuds/LyraLV
Summary: Nightmare never said anything about cursed books in his library. Then again, he didn'tnotsay anything about them either.Color and Killer find this out the hard way.
Relationships: Killer/Color, Killer/Nightmare, Kolor, NightKiller, Offscreen KillerCreamMare, Past Kolor, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 203





	curtain call

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to one of the few kolor fics out there 😂👏 This ship has become something special to me, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write them once I had the chance.
> 
> This fic was supposed to be finished as a Valentine's Day gift for Type, but it took me this long to finally wrap it up OTL I couldn't have written this without her though, encouraging me through the tedious writing process and being so supportive ;w; I'm love you, Type //chuuuuu~
> 
> Also, this fic is an AU of ATOS, set a bit down the timeline of their relationship. It's NOT canon to the fic series, but it is a little fun what-if scenario to consider >:3c 
> 
> With that said, hope you enjoy! <3 
> 
> (Dubcon warning for this fic. Check end notes for details.)

“This place looks exactly the same as the last time I was here.”

Color observes the stone walls of the castle with disinterest, face wrinkling in that adorably displeased way of his when he finds something unpleasant.

Killer huffs as he leads them through the corridors, a smile tugging at his mouth. He’s pretty certain he’s been smiling this whole time come to think of it. Being with his best friend just so happens to draw out that giddy side of himself, and Killer’s soul glows in response, the heart-shape unwavering. It’s been like that for awhile now, but seeing it everyday never grows old. Not when he was so used to waking up to the old reflection of his twisted self.

Part of him is also happy with how Color’s gaze shines with satisfaction whenever he glances at it. Like he’s proud that Killer has finally found the stability he sought after for so long.

“What?” Killer replies. “Like a mystery waiting to be uncovered?”

“More like a mystery I want to stay buried forever.” Color flicks a finger along the wall and examines it as if he’s some posh inspector.

“Nice. I’ll give you some clues about the place anyways. I fucked the boss against the wall in that exact spot two days ago.”

Color’s face screws up even further in disgust, and he wipes his finger along his shorts like it’s been cursed from touching invisible, old cum.

“Gross. Please tell me you’re joking.”

Killer shrugs. “Yeah, I am.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder to point at the far end of the room. “It was actually that wall over there.”

Scoffing, Color brushes past him, his sweet scent filling Killer’s nasal cavity as they bump shoulders. “It appears you haven’t changed either. Still insatiably horny as always.”

Killer laughs. “Speak for yourself, hotshot. I seem to recall a certain someone waking me up lots of times for an early morning fuck at the asscrack of dawn. Couldn’t keep your greedy hands to yourself.”

Color snorts but doesn’t deny it, which is just as good as a signed confession. Killer snickers to himself and watches with amusement as his friend tries and fails to hide his curiosity about the place.

The last time he’d been here was years ago, back when he’d tried with all his power to convince Killer to leave Nightmare’s entourage. He was unsuccessful, of course, because Killer was smitten from the moment Nightmare laid eyes on him. There’s a visceral satisfaction he gets from receiving the boss’s attention, like a thrill of heat that leaves Killer shuddering with delight.

“Have you read any of his books then? Or is it just another room for you to mindlessly fuck in?”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Killer protests in a tone that clearly states otherwise. Today, he’s invited Color to check out Nightmare’s library after having gotten the all-clear from the boss himself with just a touch of bribery. Nightmare’s soft, thin breaths that bordered on moans still play over in his mind, the memory of how he’d clutched Killer’s shoulders as Killer choked around his length just as vivid as it was last night.

He should thank Nightmare once Color leaves with however many books he pilfers. Just a little something to really hammer home his gratitude.

For now, though, he has a nerd of a friend who wants to investigate the two story library. Honestly, Killer wouldn’t have thought twice about extending an invite, but when he’d offhandedly mentioned the library over a lunch date, Color’s face had lit up with awe in a way Killer’s only ever seen with Dream. It was cute, and once his friend started firing questions about the grandness of the library, well.

It would’ve been rude not to ask him to come over, right? And Nightmare’s always harping on about manners, pompous old man that he is.

Regardless, inviting Color was more than worth it purely for the way his vivid flames heightened in excitement as his face shone with wonder and hope. Shucks, if Killer knew his friend was this much of a bookworm, he would’ve brought him home a long time ago. It’s a treat to see that usual bitch face of his transform into something enthralled.

He notes how utterly lost the skeleton looks, trying to find his way, and Killer hooks an arm through his. Color meets his gaze, brow lifting, and Killer suppresses his amusement.

“C’mon, cutie. I’ll lead the way.”

He’s treated to the sight of Color flushing a pretty array of his namesake, and he smirks. Color rolls his eyelight but obediently lets Killer tug him along. Their journey remains uninterrupted to the library. Cross and Dream have taken off on some date or other that will likely last until late tonight. They invited Killer and Nightmare tag along, but the boss resigned himself to finishing the load of paperwork in his study, and Killer couldn’t exactly just drop Color. Even he knew that would deeply disappoint his friend, no matter how well Color would pretend otherwise.

Another time maybe. They should all go out on a date together—him and his three lovers. It’s been a while since they last had time for themselves.

Killer brings his companion to a stop outside a set of beautifully carved doors. Mouth parted, Color gapes at the intricate patterns with open awe. Nightmare really outdid himself with the design of his castle, though Killer suspects his king might have gone just a _little_ overboard. He proves as much when Color reaches for the handle and finds it locked.

Color’s brow quirks. “He keeps the library closed off?”

Killer shrugs and smiles. “Yeah, it’s just one of his things. Eccentric. This room is always kept locked because the books in here are kinda like his pride and joy. His collection alone is probably worth millions ‘cause he’s got books dating back centuries ago.”

The fascination on Color’s face is beyond charming as he studies the doors that yield no keyhole on the handles. “How do we get in?”

“Like this,” Killer says. He reaches out and rests his hand against the handle. It pulses under his touch, recognizing him as familiar and welcome. The crescent moons on the doors both glow gold, and the entrance swings open.

No matter how many times Killer visits the library, its magnitude never fails to impress him. The room yawns before them with opulence that rivals most other spaces in the castle. Shelves upon shelves of books stretch along the walls. Heavy purple drapes hang from the four colossal windows that stretch from floor to ceiling of both the first and second levels. Even without a sun in Nightmare’s world, this room shines brilliantly with its creamy stone walls and marble flooring, sconces spaced effectively throughout the large room. Thick, plush rugs decorate the center of the place where comfortable couches and chairs reside. A fireplace sits between two of the massive windows before the reclining area, temporarily dormant.

The upper level is just as grand as the lower. Killer has a feeling Color plans to see it all.

“Like I said,” Killer remarks, thoroughly enjoying the way Color slowly walks inside and spins in place, mouth agape. “Eccentric.”

“Beautiful,” Color gasps, and Killer makes a sound of agreement.

“Heh. Yep, he’s that too.”

At this, Color briefly pauses in his marveling to throw him an unimpressed look. “I meant the library, asshole.”

Killer winks but doesn’t say anything, which only makes Color scowl. Choosing not to argue, he scans the numerous shelves that climb up, the stone staircase on the other side of the room drawing his eye.

“He can’t possibly have read all of these.”

“Nah. We have a kids’ section that I’m almost positive he hasn’t actually looked through.”

Color startles, twisting to look back at Killer. “Kids?!”

“Uh,” Killer says, instantly backtracking. He expects... well, he’s not sure what he would expect from Color’s reaction, but it certainly isn’t the way his friend’s face softens as Killer searches for the right words and comes up empty. Color’s eyes are full of tentative, happy surprise, a kindness to his expression that doesn’t show often. Killer finds himself flushing under that sweetness.

“I didn’t know you were expecting,” Color says.

Killer sputters. “What? Why would you th— No! I’m not having a kid!”

“Oh.” Color tilts his head, considering. “...Is it...Cross, then?”

Despite the absolute ridiculousness of the situation, Killer laughs at the absurd assumption, caught entirely off guard.

“C-cross?! Don’t make me laugh. The guy’s got a mile-long boner for daddy kink, but that’s not necessarily a role he’s ready for.” Killer’s tone turns sly. “He’s more the kind to be putting the baby in somebody else, if you catch my drift.”

“There was no subtlety to that statement, so yes, I “caught your drift.” Color makes a face. “Thank you for that information I would have loved to not know.”

“You’re welcome!”

Sighing, Color looks about the room once more. Killer can tell he’s itching to go explore, but instead of asking for the go-ahead, he sticks by his side.

Killer very carefully ignores just how warm that thought makes him.

“So,” Color says, hesitant. “If it’s neither you nor Cross, are your other boyfriends expecting?”

Killer’s mouth quirks as he shakes his head. “Nah, no kids on the horizon for us.”

He pauses, face heating just a little, and reading him easily, _too_ easily, Color helps close the gap.

“...Yet?”

It’s a simple question. Killer could spot it coming well in advance, but hearing Color voice his curiosity fills him with sudden shyness. He’s not used to being unmoored like this, but the subject in question is something Killer’s given thought to. Quite a bit, actually. He knows the others have too, though it’d been soon established that Dream isn’t ready for kids to join the equation just yet. If ever, really. And Killer is more than fine with that. If it came down to choosing his happiness and his boyfriend’s comfort, he’d set aside his own wants in a flash.

Dream means a lot to him. They all do, and though the thought of having a family with his lovers is something Killer’s begun to long for, he’s not going to just ignore Dream’s wishes.

Cross and Nightmare feel the same. It’s why Killer never told anyone about the small stash of children’s books he’d begun to collect and secretly store in a tiny alcove in the library. The books are well out of sight, and Dream rarely visits the library as it is.

Killer used to feel a little bad about collecting the colorful books, but... It was an outlet for him. Something he could run his fingers over and imagine the possibility of one day holding his own kid in his lap and reading aloud to them. He hadn’t planned on letting anyone else know. This was supposed to just be his own secret, and it was relatively harmless in the long run. As long as Dream didn’t find out—which Killer doubted he would—and potentially adopt some misplaced guilt from knowing Killer’s true thoughts in the matter, then it was fine.

The alcove was Killer’s, a place where he could sit late at night and flip through the pages of the books with large, cheerful print. What the books actually said was lost on him since most of his perusal was spent with his thoughts wandering. He didn’t even visit the spot much, but it was nice to know that he had a place he could build and make his own while his traitorous soul glowed ever brighter with his emotions.

As such, he was quite surprised when he realized his collection was growing with more books than he himself had added. At first, he thought Cross had caught on to his little habit and contributed with his own share. But then, late one evening after everyone had gone to sleep, Killer snuck down the halls and into the library to repeat his ritual, footsteps noiseless as he ascended the stairs to the second level.

When he’d reached his alcove, he nearly froze at the sight of Nightmare sitting cross-legged on the floor, a bright, picturesque book open in his lap and a candle burning at his side for light. Killer remembers the way that teal eyelight met his, something hidden behind Nightmare’s usual stoic expression.

Softly, as if afraid of ruining the peaceful quiet, Nightmare had whispered, “I found some old books I used to read to Dream centuries ago. It’s rather light material, given the themes discussed in each. I thought it might be something you would like in your collection—for potential future reference, that is.”

Killer’s unsure of the sound that’d slipped out at Nightmare’s words, but the sight of the other’s eye widening is forever branded in his mind. He’d closed the distance between them fast, knees hitting the floor as he pulled Nightmare into a desperate, thankful kiss. He doesn’t think either of them would have been able to properly express their thoughts in that moment, so when they’d broken apart, Killer had said, gutted, “Show me.”

The early morning then hours flew by, Killer listening with rapt attention as Nightmare read to him from one of the books intended for just slightly more mature children. He never thought one’s voice could be so lovely, but the way Nightmare read aloud, tone expressive through the twists and turns of the story, lulled Killer into a sleep he doesn’t recall entering. One minute, his head was resting on Nightmare’s shoulder, and the next, he woke up in bed with the other pressed warmly against his back.

The memory brings a wave of bashfulness as Color stares inquisitively at him. He won’t share the intimacy of that time with him, but the happiness he felt when he realized Nightmare felt much the same, the relief of not being alone in this yearning—

That’s something he thinks he can allude to.

Glancing away from the understanding on his friend’s face, Killer rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks hot.

“Yeah,” he says. ““ _Yet_.” Maybe not ever, but...”

Color hums. “But it’s something you long for. A family.”

Killer’s hand drops back to his side. “When did I ever become such a sap, habibi?”

“Hate to break it to you, but you’ve always been one.” Color steps close, reaching out and resting a hand gently on his arm. The touch is deliciously warm. “You’re a good friend and an even better lover, if past experience and the contentment from your boyfriends is any indication.”

The words make Killer snort, and he looks back at Color, pleased by the soft light on the other’s cheeks as well. Before he can crack a joke to switch focus from the current moment, Color continues.

“I’m certain that if you do have children of your own one day, Killer, you’ll be a wonderful father.”

A blush ignites on Killer’s face. Suddenly, he’s wide-eyed, struggling to comprehend the words and hearing them repeat in his head like a broken record. Such a statement demands a response because Color is not at all correct in that assumption, but Killer’s unable to word his tide of emotions properly. His mouth hangs open, no sound coming out, and Color squeezes his arm. He smiles, satisfied with Killer’s extremely flustered state, and turns to regard the room before them.

“I don’t know where to even begin,” he says, and Killer finally snaps his mouth shut, swallowing around a dry throat.

“Color...” he begins, but his voice is faint, and the other either doesn’t hear him or chooses not to.

“Maybe you can give me a tour?”

Killer stares holes into the side of his friend’s face—well, more holes than the two his skull already has. He’s desperate to refute the words that still send warmth through his soul despite his vehement denial at their truth. But the seconds are ticking by, and his time to protest has already slipped out of his hands like sand. The fight leaves his shoulders, and he sighs.

“Yeah. I can give you a tour.”

Color smiles brightly at him, an annoying glint in his eye that hints towards his awareness of topping an argument. Killer begrudgingly allows him the victory. This time. But if he tries to bring up the idea again...

“It’s best if you start on the left side and work your way around before heading upstairs. Newer stuff is down here while the more fragile and ancient books are up there.”

He guides Color through Nightmare’s organizational system, meticulous and perfected in a way that clearly boasts the boss’s handiwork. When Nightmare first showed him the library, Killer was more than a little impressed. Just this room alone is another example of how carefully Nightmare puts thought into things he cares about, how such a room displays his passion through every book’s placement.

Color has the same look of awe as he walks around the room with Killer. He’s clearly dying to get his hands on some reading material while also wanting to learn all he can about the way Nightmare set up the library.

What a couple of nerds. Killer can’t believe he’s surrounded himself with people who get a hard on for books. It’s a wonder they ever found a way into his soul.

Just as they’re nearing the completion of the tour for the lower half of the library, Color pauses behind Killer. He points at a door that’s nearly lost between two massive bookshelves, innocuous and unobtrusive.

“Is that a private reading room?”

“Hmm?” Killer turns and studies the door in question and comes up blank. He’s certain he’s noticed it before. It’s not all that hidden from sight—just tucked away for the sake of convenience.

It’s plain and boring, which immediately makes Killer eager to explore this thing that’s so suspiciously _unsuspicious_. If there’s anything he’s learned about Nightmare since working for him, it’s that whatever the boss doesn’t want anyone taking notice of, he’ll deliberately ensure it looks like it blends in.

Good thing Killer’s always been a bit of a rule breaker.

“No idea,” he says. “Let’s go check it out.”

Color definitely detects the conniving lilt in Killer’s tone, but he’s also always been unable to refuse his curious side. Killer exploits that to the fullest as he approaches the door with Color on his heels.

Predictably, it’s locked. Unlike the entrance to the library, this door appears to require a key. An ancient one by the looks of it.

Killer’s amusement climbs. If there was ever any doubt of Nightmare’s age, this alone would confirm it. He bets the key is some bulky metal thing with fancy swirls and nubs. The boss probably polishes it every night too.

“Well, that’s that.” Color frowns at the door, flames dimming in the slightly dark space. Killer casts him a sidelong look that makes Color’s hackles rise like clockwork.

“Killer—”

“As if you don’t wanna break in yourself,” he says, grinning wide. “ _C’mon_. He’ll never even know we were in here.”

With a flick of his hand, a lock pick materializes on the backs of his fingers from his inventory, and Killer twirls it between them teasingly. Color stares at it with such a longing expression that gives him sharp satisfaction.

“You know you _want_ _to_...,” he singsongs.

Harumphing, Color crosses his arms and looks away. His face creases with annoyed acceptance, which is honestly his staple expression, all things considered.

“Fine.”

It takes less than a minute for Killer to unlock the door. He pushes it open with a soundless swing, pocketing his lock pick. Rising from his crouched position, he brushes his hands on his shorts and looks at his friend.

Color ignores his smug smile and steps inside the room. The second he crosses the threshold, the sconces on the walls light up, magical flame igniting and revealing the expanse of the rather small room.

First impressions leave much to be desired. Killer scans the space that seems to have been dedicated to storage, judging by the cabinets and table stuffed in the room. The place looks like it’s hardly ever used, yet when Killer flicks a finger along the top of a cabinet, it comes back clean.

He rolls his eyes at the utter neat freak Nightmare is, ignoring how his soul pulses with a jab of affection.

“Close the door.”

Killer lifts a brow at the words, looking back at the other and watching him flush.

Color waves an arm at where the light from the library shines into the small room. “Look, you don’t want to risk getting caught, do you? So just close it for now.”

Eyes lidded, Killer shrugs innocently. “Whatever you say, love.”

Color’s pretty blush deepens, ruining any effectiveness his angry glower might have had. Killer winks at him and turns to shut the door behind them.

The small space is suddenly much more cramped. Deigning to ignore the oddly tense atmosphere, Killer eyes the myriad of cabinets and dressers in the room. A set of drawers in a dark corner calls his attention, luring him close, and he walks towards it like there’s a sudden, urgent need to know what’s inside.

Like the door, the cabinet bears a similar lock. Killer crouches down and scrutinizes it. A very distinct sign has been taped to the front of the drawer with the words “Danger: Do Not Open” penned in beautiful, recognizable cursive.

Killer frowns. Odd. He can’t recall Nightmare ever mentioning keeping something dangerous in the castle. Dangerous to them, at least. He would’ve let everyone know beforehand, a preemptive measure to ensure safety, meaning that whatever’s in here can’t possibly be as fatal as the sign seems to suggest. So why would he bother to keep such tight security on something so insignificant?

The question begs an answer, and he’s reaching for the drawer, lock pick in hand when his wrist is grabbed. Startled, he glances up at Color’s concerned gaze.

An unusual spike of irritation courses through him at being interrupted.

“What?” He asks, perhaps a bit too sharp, and Color’s expression turns thoughtful.

“I called your name twice, but you didn’t answer.”

He doesn’t like the odd sensation that travels down his spine. Like anticipation sitting in the rafters, heady and impatient. He shivers.

“Huh. Must’ve not heard you.”

“Yeah.” Color looks far from convinced, and he shifts his distrust to the cabinet that captivated Killer. His flames dance and flicker a pretty hue. “What do you think is in there?”

Killer looks back at the cabinet. A devious smirk lights up his face.

“Probably his porno mags.”

“Spare me,” Color says, disgusted. He continues to lean over Killer’s shoulder, though, intrigued. Releasing his grip on Killer’s wrist, he nods at the mysterious set of drawers. “Only one way to find out, I guess.”

“Atta boy,” Killer purrs, knowing without even a glance that Color’s flushed once more.

This lock takes a bit more time to budge, and as the seconds pass, the antsiness curling around his soul escalates. He fiddles with the lock with increasing frustration until at last it clicks, and Killer lets out a triumphant shout.

Color shushes him irritably. Killer’s grin climbs higher as he eagerly sets aside the lock and opens the drawer at the bottom. They both lean closer, spellbound.

Inside, it’s almost empty save for a single object wrapped in cloth. Yet another piece of paper sits on top of it, stating, “ _Under no circumstances should you read this book. DO NOT TOUCH_.” Killer brushes aside the useless piece of paper and with delicate fingers pulls the cloth apart. Nestled between the fabric is a book that is clearly old, the weathered spine torn and the pages yellowed. But something about the book screams importance, and Killer doesn’t deny the mounting desire to peer through its contents. He gently lifts it out of the drawer and stands, making his way over to the solitary table in the room for better lighting. Color sticks to his side, just as fascinated by this strange relic that almost seems to radiate with power.

A ridiculous thought, of course. Killer knows that no book can actually draw Color or him to it. But all the same, he’s excited to see what secrets Nightmare’s been keeping locked up, and if this just so happens to be an ancient diary, then reading a page or two can’t hurt.

Surprised to see his hands trembling, Killer struggles to ignore the out of place weirdness that’s taking control of his body and making his head fuzzy. He lets out a long exhale to hopefully shake off the fuzziness and opens the cover of the book.

“A Tale of Cursed Lovers: Destiny and Death,” Color reads.

“Oh my god,” Killer breathes. “Nightmare is a romance novel hoarder.”

Color chokes out a laugh. “What?”

Killer peels his gaze away from the book to aim his grin at him. “I’ll bet you a week’s salary that that cabinet is chalk full of smutty books dating back to ye olden times.”

Color grins back, socket narrowing. “I’ll take that bet.”

“Better get ready to fork over some money, sweetheart.” Killer looks at the book that vies for his attention and flips to the first page. It seems to be a poem of sorts, and staring at it causes his head to pound as the words nauseatingly turn three-dimensional. He closes his eyes and gives his head a tiny shake, looks at the page again, and finds the words back to normal and marginally easier to read. The letters seem to swirl just a bit on the edge of unnatural though, and Killer grunts as a headache blooms in the front of his skull.

“Let’s see what this one has to say first before we go looking,” he says. His voice kind of sounds far away to his own ears, which is definitely not right, but he finds himself unable to say so. It’s after a moment that he realizes his tongue has formed, and Killer blinks. He doesn’t recall doing that. When he tries to desummon it, his magic persists, saliva thick in his mouth, and he swallows.

Was the room always this hot? He could’ve sworn it felt chilly two minutes ago.

His confusion is forgotten just as quick as he begins to read aloud.

_“Dear reader who so desires to twine thy love to self,_

_thou hast fatally chosen_

_for this spell shan’t be broken,_

_and incessant lust has finally cost thee thy health._

_“An indelible curse shall rest upon thine own soul_

_And will bind thee with all haste_

_In promiscuous disgrace_

_Until death has claimed thee for thine wretch’d grasp for control._

_“Mercy may be found if thy love is shared insomuch_

_That in exceeding relief_

_Shall thee find thy bless’t reprieve_

_Upon expelling the heat with thine lover’s own touch._

_“Within thee this spell now burns lustful bones till they are nothing but dust.”_

Killer stumbles back from the book, gasping. His chest heaves, and a molten prickling settles in his soul. The room spins, and as he blinks sudden sweat from his eyes, he catches sight of Color.

He looks _wrecked_.

Color’s hands are pressed flat against the table as his shoulders hunch and tremble. His flames burn with brilliant hues that change at a faster rate than usual. A captivating blush spans almost his entire face.

Killer would ask his friend if he’s alright, but instead, a sharp whine escapes him as a phantom touch hot like lava courses through his body, and he wraps his arms around his middle. His pelvis aches. His pubic area is _throbbing_. It comes as no surprise when slick from his already conjured magic runs down his leg.

“C-color—” He whispers, uncertain of what he’s going to say. All he knows is that suddenly, he _needs_. His body craves to be touched and groped and used, and Color is doing none of that. Killer needs him so bad right now, and the longer the seconds pass, the more agonizing the fever becomes.

“What the fuck,” he whispers, and Color echoes his sentiment with a groan.

He struggles to push himself away from the table and the cursed book. Killer resists everything within him that shouts to go to Color, to help him, to have his hands on him. It’s like fire is licking over every inch of his body, from his skull to the tips of his fingers and all the way down to his feet. There’s a physical ache that’s caused his magic to sit heavy in his pelvis, similar to almost if he was in—

Killer’s whirling thoughts slam into a brick wall.

“Heat,” he gasps, eyes widening.

From the table, Color groans again. “What?”

Killer wipes a hand across his forehead and swears viciously.

“It’s a damn heat curse,” he bites out. “Something that’s caused us to feel like we’re smack in the middle of one.”

As if to confirm his words, a ripple of arousal rushes through him, dragging an embarrassing sound out of his throat that’s thick and guttural. It’s severe to the point of agony, dancing along the knife’s edge of painful pleasure, and the fire within his soul only grows hotter. His shorts are soaked with his slick, and Killer hasn’t even touched himself yet. He’s got a bad inclination that if he does, he won’t be able to stop.

Worse, it won’t be enough.

“Color, w-we gotta... we need t—”

“To get out of here,” Color finishes, which is not at all what Killer was going to say, but that works too.

He nods and swallows. “Yeah, sure, we can take this somewhere else.”

Color, at long last, finally turns his head and looks at him.

The desire in his eyelight adds to the ache between Killer’s legs. It’s been years since he’s seen that lustful gaze turned on him, that desperation, that _intent_ to have Killer begging in short order. Color stares at him like he plans to do just that, to recreate those memories, and fuck if it doesn’t turn Killer on even more.

But he can’t. He shouldn’t. He has three new boyfriends who would be more than willing to take care of him, and it’s that thought that makes him fully agree with Color’s decision.

He tries not to think about the concern of whether Color also has someone else who can take care of him.

When he staggers towards the door, every step away from the book, away from _Color_ , seems to make the heat surge. The intensity of it has Killer wheezing by the time he reaches the door, and he slumps against it, grasping the handle.

It doesn’t budge.

Frustrated, Killer twists the handle again, then again, and he kicks the door once he realizes it’s been locked.

Pressing his hands and forehead against the cool wood that barely soothes his bitch of a heat, he bites back a sigh.

“Locked?”

“Yeah.” His knees tremble from resisting the urge to bend inward, and Killer wants to rub his legs together like that’ll quell his need.

Voice pathetically wavering, he bemoans, “I could’ve sworn—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Color cuts him off. His voice sounds closer. “Means we’re just gonna have to move on to our next best plan.”

The floor is miles away from where Killer dizzily stares down at it. Lost, he says, “Our next what?”

“Plan,” Color whispers against his neck, suddenly there and heavy against his back. Killer inhales fast at the press of Color’s magic against his sacrum, warmth radiating through their shorts. Hands rest on the door on either side of him, right next to his own as Color places a foot between Killer’s and knees his femurs further apart.

Killer’s not easily flustered. He’s done things that would make a lesser monster blush, though he himself is already pretty low on the spectrum. But as Color crowds him against the door, teeth finding the sensitive vertebrae of his neck, a blush that has nothing to do with the damned heat burns across his face.

“C-color... not that I don’t appreciate the— _ghk_ —s-sudden interest, but we should—oh fuck—"

Color hums his approval as Killer tilts his head to the side to make room for him despite his flimsy protest. The more Color bites and licks, the more the air seems to spiral upward in temperature.

“You’re in a relationship,” Color says, tongue playing with the space between two of his vertebrae. Killer is quick to verbalize his appreciation, mouth parting as his sockets close. “I get it. But there’s some things you need to consider.”

“O-oh? What’s that?” Killer asks, trying not to think about the subtle movement of his hips that grinds him against the cock pressed to his pelvis. Color curses as he repeats the motion, and Killer tries to find his equilibrium that’s definitely shot. For a brief second, there’s a modicum of relief as his bones cool down just a touch, but then the magic flares back just as bright in his joints, causing him to grit his teeth.

“Killer,” Color hisses, possibly protesting the rubbing against his dick, though he makes no move to stop him. One of his hands leaves the door and rests on Killer’s pelvis instead, guiding him into the gentle rolling that does nothing to satiate either of them.

Color takes a moment to breathe and then tries again.

“Listen,” he says, voice tight. “What’d the book say? In order to stop the curse, you gotta expel the heat with their touch.”

Killer can barely think through the sharp pain that’s beginning to twist in his soul, but he tries to focus regardless. “With what?”

“The—nnh, _shit_ —the lover’s touch. Or your lover’s touch. Something like that.”

Killer laughs weakly. “Well, that’s just dandy. Not sure I can pick a lock in this state to go find one of my boyfriends.”

Color’s hand spasms on Killer’s hip, and he rest his forehead against his back. His voice sounds fucked out, which is what Killer would like to be right now if this door would be so kind as to fucking open.

“That’s the other thing,” Color says. “Look at the handle.”

Confused, Killer obeys the weird command and peers down. The door handle swims in his vision, but as he waits for the bleariness to clear, understanding slaps him across the face.

“There’s no lock on this side.”

Color makes a vague verbal noise of agreement that quickly morphs into a muffled swear. “S-saw it when we first walked in. Thought if you picked the lock on the other side, then the door would stay unlatched even if it was closed. Which means—"

“Which means someone locked us in,” Killer says, sockets widening.

“Not just someone. Who else did you say was staying in the castle today?”

This time, the laugh that escapes Killer is genuine and disbelieving. He shakes his head, grin strained.

“Nightmare, you fucking bastard. Goddamn, I’m gonna ruin him for this.”

“Not his fault,” Color says, uncharacteristically egalitarian towards the monster in question. “The heat could be contagious. And who decided to sneak in here anyways?”

“Fuck off, hypocrite,” Killer says without any heat. Heh. Funny. Wish the rest of his body would do the same.

“Fuck,” he says again because it bears repeating. “Nightmare’s the only one who can teleport in this castle, the paranoid prick. So, what now? You saying we need to fuck to end this dumbass curse?”

A chuckle, worn and heady, sounds from behind him. It adds to the rich drops of arousal coating the inside of his shorts, only heightening his frustration, and he grimaces at another mildly concerning twist of his soul.

At least it hasn’t begun to take on a circular shape yet.

“S’not my idea of walking down memory lane, but if we’re to believe that the book can actually kill us…”

“Yeah,” Killer sighs his agreement, acceptance brewing amidst the craze of thoughts running through his skull.

“And well,” Color manages between breaths, a cracked laugh just hinting at the edges, “if Nightmare’s actually given his blessing, albeit in the _worst way_ _possible_ —”

Killer doesn’t need further convincing. He can hear the fear and nervous worry in Color’s voice, and that alone spurs him into action—a protective urgency to reassure his friend and distract him. He straightens and whirls around, shocking Color and causing him to stumble back a step. Killer grips him by the arms and drags him back in.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me already,” he growls.

Color goes easily enough, resting his hands on Killer’s hips and tugging him closer until their pelvises brush. They meet in a rough kiss, a painful clanking of teeth before they slow down just enough to actually enjoy the taste of each other, and Killer groans. He lets Color’s tongue push into his mouth and bites it, shuddering as Color grinds his clothed cock against him in return. It’s warm magic rubbing along his, not nearly enough to give him what he needs. With both hands, he yanks Color’s shorts out of the way as much as he can while distracted.

Fortunately, Color seems to be in much the same mindset as he returns the favor, tongue skillfully moving against his while he hastily shucks Killer’s shorts down just far enough to expose his wet pussy to the cold air. It doesn’t affect Killer at all, magic burning with increasing pain that only adds to the myriad of sensations. Color slips a hand between his folds and thrusts two fingers in.

“F-fuck—"

Killer’s head tips back, braced by the door that Color so helpfully props him against. He rocks his fingers into Killer, stretching him out and curling them to which Killer moans with relief. It’s fucking delightful, the first taste of satisfaction that only leads to his body demanding more. He tries to roll his hips into the motion of Color fucking him with his fingers, and it’s immediately not enough.

“C’mon, babe, I don’t need much, just—"

Color silences him with another kiss, grinding his palm against his clit, and Killer gasps.

“Shh,” Color soothes. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need, Killer. Let me take care of both of us.”

A breathless laugh tumbles out, memories of their past stirring up.

“You always did,” Killer says, slick dripping from his cunt at the promise in Color’s words. Color looks at him for a moment, expression raw and vulnerable, flames just as beautiful as his flushed face. Killer grabs him by the jaw and kisses him deep.

It’s pointless to waste time on any more uncertainties, and with both of them stuck waist deep in the consequences of their stupidass curiosity, the direness of the situation enhances their desire. Killer drags Color’s tongue into his mouth and sucks on it. With his free hand, he rests his fingertips at Color’s collarbone and runs them down his chest.

He skirts the edge of the mark that burns across his ribs, teasing along the sensitive area and grinning into the kiss at the wounded noise he receives . It’s worth the retaliation as Color stuffs a third finger into him. While pressing harder against the pretty scar, Killer hooks a leg over Color’s hip. The new angle is instantly better, each thrust sliding in deeper, but it’s still not enough. Whatever spell he’s under only alleviates the more Color touches him—a high that leaves Killer trembling with anticipation and need.

Color can’t be much better off either, not if the way his skull shines with sweat and the sounds he muffles into Killer’s mouth are any indication. He curls his fingers inside of him, and while the bright burst of pleasure is striking, it’s not going to satisfy either of them.

“Color,” Killer begins to protest, and finally, _finally_ , the other skeleton decides he’s ready.

“Yeah, ok. I’ve got you,” he whispers. He pulls his fingers out with a wet sound. A moment later, he grits his teeth as he strokes himself fast, slicking himself up with the fingers that were just deep inside Killer’s cunt, and damn if it doesn’t stir something within him. Color’s other hand rests on the leg Killer has hooked around his hip, and in one smooth motion, he guides his cock inside of him.

They groan in unison, every inch of Color’s thick magic filling Killer in a way that’s beyond gratifying. He holds onto his shoulder, bracing himself while his other hand fists the back of Color’s jacket. In the next breath, Color begins to fuck him hard, setting a pace that drags a broken yelp from Killer’s throat. His head tips back against the door as every thrust pushes him into it with a noisy thud and grants him sorely needed relief.

“Oh—fuck, Color,” Killer pants, “A-ahh, that’s so—feels so good—” His words are laced with barely coherent praise that Color seems to drink up nevertheless, his pace stuttering through the next thrust that has Killer squeezing his eyes shut. The hand clutching his femur applies painful pressure as Color pulls him back onto his cock, controlling each movement of his hips with ease. The heavy gasps edging towards something more are stifled into Killer’s shoulder as Color presses as close as possible. He’s just as quiet as Killer remembers him being, even with his hot breath brushing the side of his head, letting Killer cut the silence by running his mouth. The unbridled whines from Color serve as more than enough of a reward.

That’s fine. Killer’s more than equipped to do the talking for the both of them. And if he plays his cards right, he’ll get Color whispering sweet nothings after a little more helpful incentive.

Memories of their time together, brief as it was, flash through his mind’s eye like lightning fast snapshots. It’s almost instinct to try to wrap himself around Color, to reach for that sensitive place on his spine and press in with his fingertips, just the way Killer knows he likes. For a moment, they’re back in Color’s bedroom, sheets rustling and the morning quiet broken with their insatiability for each other.

His fingers dig in more firmly, and like clockwork, Color’s breath stutters on the next inhale—a desperate noise caught just behind it. Killer falls into rhythm with him like he never left.

“Fuck, baby,” his voice is raspy and tinged with a softness he doesn’t care to name, “you’re filling me up just right, givin’ me what I need.” He clenches down on the next thrust, relishing the near-silent curse Color exhales.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Killer purrs, triumphant like a cat with a canary and his smile just as smug. “You feel that? Feel how wet I am for you? How tight my pussy is around your cock?”

“Killer,” Color says, hoarse. It’s enough to have Killer teetering on the edge of coming, the wrecked gasp of his name causing his pubis to respond with another flare. An image plays in his mind, of Color clutching onto him while little noises slip past his teeth. Following that is another of Color fucking him past his release and using him however he needs. Making him an incoherent, begging mess.

He looks down at where the base of Color’s dick can be seen as he uses up Killer’s pussy, the wet slap of his magic utterly filthy. His breathing hitches, high-pitched with every inhale like he can’t get enough air. He’s not going to last much longer, and the thought of him coming on Color’s cock spikes the hot tingling in his soul.

Meeting Color thrust for thrust, he rolls his hips. There’s nothing that matters in this moment other than the two of them, the weight of Color’s frame leaning against his, hot breaths exchanged between them in the small space that leads to Killer claiming another kiss. The pace is turning more frantic, more desperate, and Killer can tell the other is close from the swelling of his cock.

He reaches between them and rubs his own clit. Moaning at the added relief, Killer rolls and pinches it with his fingers, short, breathy gasps providing little air as he becomes light-headed.

“Hhn— C-color, please,” he pants, body alight and arousal building with each passing second. He’s so close, just needs a little more, and he whines as the pleasure becomes almost too much, bones rattling and body twisting to both push away and pull him closer. “Oh, oh fuck, yes, just a little more—”

“That’s it, Killer, c’mon. Let me feel you come.”

The jaws of the spell clamp around his soul and send an agonizing pulse of warmth to his cunt. Every place Color is touching him is like a burning star, searing him to his core. A rush of incomprehensible begging fills the air, broken utterances of Color’s name and unfinished pleas for more as Killer focuses on nothing but the way he’s surrounded, pressed against the door as Color ruts into him. Legs trembling, he tenses the one hooked around Color’s hip, and rubs his clit faster.

Everything grows hotter, bright points shining behind his shut eyes. His face is on fire, the blush traveling all the way down and culminating in his inlet. Color’s thick magic nudges the lowest parts of his vertebrae, stuffing him so fully and stretching his passage so that every inch of his cock drags along his inner walls.

It swells within him, release just within reach, and Color growls against his neck, fucking into him without restraint.

“Hhn, Color—!”

The constricted sensation around his soul snaps, and Killer comes with a shout, pussy clenching around the cock that continues to thrust into him and lengthen his orgasm. A violent shudder rips through him, and it’s all he can do to ride it out as each wave of his release washes over him. He distantly hears Color curse, pushing into his wet cunt over and over again until at last, hot slick fills Killer and rips another uneven whimper past his teeth.

Color rocks into him a few more times, savoring the sudden, immense relief that he must also be sharing with Killer. The heat that consumed them quiets down to a soft flame, flickering at the edges of their interest but temporarily contained. The room doesn’t isn’t spinning anymore, and the hot itch that suffused Killer’s bones has all but petered out. He breathes a sigh, head lolling against the door as he stares sightlessly up at the ceiling, though the tingling in his pelvis tells him he’s not out of the woods just yet.

Color’s gaze is heavy on him, drawing back his attention, and Killer watches sweat drip down his face in an unfairly pornographic display. Given what they just did, he supposes it’s only fitting, but the sight of the other skeleton breathing fast and holding him close, watching him back with the same intensity makes his spark of interest flare again.

He clenches tight, the curve of his smile uneven as the cock inside him twitches. Color looks like he’s thinking along the same lines as Killer and proves as much with the next quiet suggestion.

“More?”

Killer‘s grin sharpens, excitement and anticipation surging. “Fuck yeah.”

Nodding, Color gives him a tiny approving smirk of his own, and Killer feels it all the way down to their connected magic. “Good.”

He pulls out of him, slick immediately dripping out of his pussy, but he quickly hikes up Killer’s other leg around him and carries him away from the door. Killer distracts him with a deep kiss, only half-aware of where Color walks them to the other side of the room. He gives a disgruntled sound when Color breaks the kiss, but it quickly turns into a heady gasp as his back slams against the table.

Fuck, okay, he’s more than on board with this plan.

Color doesn’t give him a moment’s rest, guiding his cock back into him, fingers brushing along his wet entrance. Killer grunts at being filled again so soon, but he does nothing to stop the rough pace that Color resumes as his hands find purchase on either side of Killer’s head. This time, the new angle is that much more perfect, and Killer clings to the edge of the table to both steady himself and also push back into Color’s thrusts. His legs remain wrapped around him, keeping him close as they move together flawlessly. It’s like taking a step back in time, rediscovering an old rhythm that they once had, and Killer is delighted to find that he and Color sync up just as well as they did back then.

Sweat drips from his brow, either from the heat, the increasing humidity, or a fucked up mix of both. Killer doesn’t particularly care, though seeing Color in a similar state does something to him, his walls shuddering around Color’s cock.

“Fu— _Killer_.” Color sounds deprived of air, flames climbing higher and dancing erratically in a beautiful display. The ever present slash across his chest is luminescent, a lovely line of polychromatic fire.

There’s little more Killer would like than to run his tongue across that mark and hear him yelp. His mouth waters at the thought, but it’s soon cast aside in favor of savoring the way Color’s frantic pace urges him to come again. His body protests that it’s too fast, too soon, but the cloying marks of the spell around his soul demand more.

He’s too winded to keep up his usual slew of dirty talk that he knows would make Color lose control. It’s too much sensation all at once, fast and dirty and wildly, mind-numbingly fantastic. Killer tips his head back, a laugh-turned-moan pealing from him that’s more so on account of being amazed at how the afternoon turned into a heady fuckfest.

It seems as though neither of them really care about the change of plans, judging by the way Color’s hips continue to smack against his, the lewd joining of their magic loud and clear. He wonders if anyone walking by the storage room could hear them. He wonders if Nightmare is outside the door right now, listening to the unmistakable slick sounds of Color rutting into Killer’s cunt.

The thought makes him shiver and clench, everything spiking sharply like a relentless touch to his clit. He gives a strangled moan. He’s so close to the edge once more just by a simple fantasy.

Would Nightmare join them? Would he watch Color fuck him over and over, directing him on how to use his cunt until Killer is past coherent thought and locked in a pleasured daze? He might stroke himself while watching them. Jerk himself off as the weight of his presence encompasses Killer and steals his thought. Or maybe he’d choose not to touch himself, letting his arousal build as they came again and again at his command.

Maybe Nightmare would fuck Killer after Color was satiated, using his overstimulated pussy to satisfy his own need.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

The question doesn’t process at first, lost in the haze and ringing in his skull. It registers in Killer’s mind at a slow pace, the meaning behind it condensing bit by bit into something tangible until it clicks. Within the next breath, his sockets widen. Color doesn’t let him speak, continuing on with a smug grin, soft panting woven between his words.

“Think he can hear us now? How you’re begging for my cock with every needy sound?”

If Killer had any shame, he’d be embarrassed at how he keens. As it is, the suggestion only makes him wetter, and he gawps up at Color in a wordless, desperate plea for more. It’s all he can do to grind back against him, bones trembling and legs locked around Color’s pelvis.

Like a missing puzzle piece, Color tucks his head into the space between Killer’s head and shoulder, and the toothiness of his grin does nothing to diminish the fine points against his neck. Those teeth could so easily part and bite down on the vulnerable vertebrae, but Color remains still, save for the motion of his hips that continues to push Killer into teary-eyed oblivion.

“S-shit, baby,” Color moans, words starting to slur, “You’re so fuckin’ amazing. Never forgot how good you feel or how sweet you sound. ‘M gonna treasure this almost as much as I treasure you.”

Killer’s head turns to the side, sockets falling shut, the words adding to his rapidly approaching orgasm. Tears spill down his cheeks as the sensation overloads him. He couldn’t try to stop the wounded noises pouring from his mouth if he wanted to.

Mercilessly, Color continues.

“Want me to come inside you again? Gonna let me fill you up till you can’t take anymore?”

“Ahh, _Color—_! Hhn _,_ p-please—”

He bucks against him, and Color swears, hands slick at Killer’s hips as his grip turns bruising. Killer is going to savor the marks left on himself after this, trail his fingers over each one like it’s a gift.

Maybe Nightmare will trace and lick over each mark, adding to them with his own teeth.

The thought blindsides Killer, and without warning, he comes.

His jaw falls open, but no sound passes from his mouth as the orgasm rips through him. His vision darkens, every bone in his body struck with double the sensation. He’s deliriously grateful for the way Color pounds into him through the almost painful pleasure, every minute brush against his body bordering on too much all at once, and Killer fears a fire has erupted from his soul and consumed him.

And then, just as swiftly as it came, the impossible heat dissipates, slowly exiting from Killer’s body as if his second release chased it away. His vision returns in increments, the dark spots fading away, and a few moments after that, he realizes he’s trembling. Violently. It’s like being forcibly shaken by someone. Surprisingly, there’s no chill that would explain the shivering.

“—ler. Are you alright? _Killer_.”

Huh. Guess his hearing checked out for a bit there too.

Color’s concerned face fills his vision, and Killer blinks away the last of the dizziness. Incrementally, he releases his death grip on the table and then cups Color’s cheek. It fits in his palm nicely.

“Seriously, you’re starting to freak me out.”

“Your face freaks me out,” Killer hears himself mumble and then gives another uncontrollable shudder. His bones kind of ache, but it’s a distant pain that tells him he’s not quite left the post-orgasm high yet, so he’s gonna enjoy the ride for however long he can.

Rethinking his words, he gives a small frown. “Sorry, love. That was mean. Your face is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Second only to mine and my boyfriends’.”

It’s amazing how quickly that wipes away Color’s concern. Good. Killer didn’t like seeing it there anyways.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Color says, fake annoyance showing. His vibrant blush is still high on his cheekbones, and as Killer rubs a thumb against it, a devastating thought occurs to him.

At his whine, Color starts to look worried again, but it’s nothing compared to Killer’s distress at their current predicament. Heh. Predickament.

He’ll have to share that one with Dream later. But for right now—

“Why the fuck did you stop?”

Color gives him an odd look. “You just came. I didn’t want to overstimulate you.”

They stare at each other for a long, disbelieving moment, equal parts incredulous. Killer breaks the eye contact to run a hand down his face.

Despairing, he says, “A month. A whole month we fucked, and you still don’t know what I like.”

Color’s expression turns flat, objection obvious in his narrowed eye. Bold reaction for someone whose dick Killer can still feel throbbing inside of him. He clenches again, and his mouth curves at the broken gasp above him.

“Ok, first of all,” Color says through gritted teeth, “I’m terribly sorry I didn’t pick up on all your kinks during that very short time frame, _princess_.” Killer’s smug smile widens. He can tell Color’s trying to act like it doesn’t turn him on even more. Too bad the cum slicking Killer’s cunt says otherwise. “Second of all, I’m not gonna let either of us get so caught up in the moment that I accidentally hurt you. The spell could be making you not notice any pain until it’s worn off, and then you’ll be more than just sore.”

“Aside from the fact that I like a little pain—or a lot—” Killer replies snarkily, “I think I’m good. Whatever damn curse I got hit with is finally gone. You, on the other hand,” he purrs, unhooking his legs from behind Color, “still look in need of some assistance.”

He bends his knees as close to his chest as possible. Aware of just how open this position makes him, Killer relishes the dilating of Color’s eyelight, utterly transfixed by the no doubt enticing image Killer makes. He gives an amused hum low in his throat and then plants his feet right against Color’s ribs. Confused at the seemingly contradictory motion, Color tilts his head but eventually submits to the light pressure placed on his chest. He slowly slides out of Killer. Almost immediately, his attention falls to the cum spilling out of Killer’s cunt, and Killer sighs, pleased.

Another little push with his feet encourages Color to take a few steps back, confusion mounting even further. His cock is a gorgeous mess of his own rainbow slick with a generous amount of red that makes possessiveness curl deep inside of Killer. He props himself up with his hands, spine cracking deliciously, and then he slips off of the table and down onto his hands and knees.

Color sucks in a short breath, his eyelight shaking with lust as clarity dawns. Killer keeps his low-lidded gaze fixed upon him as he crawls over, closing the small distance.

The gentle whisper of Color’s excited panting is music to Killer, and he wraps his hands around Color’s legs, pressing a kiss to one of his femurs. Color emits a tiny whimper that turns into a loud gasp as Killer licks along the inside of his leg. His hands snake up as he straightens and puts himself at eye level with Color’s dick.

It’s a lovely sight, still just as pretty as the last time Killer remembers it being this close to his face. He rubs his cheek against it, grin stretching as Color’s muted noises strengthen.

Taking the base of the cock in his hand, he drags his tongue up its length.

“K-killer—” Color’s hands shakily rest on Killer’s skull, and Killer rewards him with another lick.

“You don’t have to—”

Wrapping his mouth around the head of the dick, Killer flattens his tongue and moans.

“ _Fuck_.”

When Killer looks up, Color’s eye is shut tight, his mouth parted like he’s in inconceivable bliss. Killer takes a bit more of him into his mouth, slicking him up even more his spit while his own cum sits heavy on his tongue. He pulls away with a lewd pop, and Color hisses at the sudden lack of stimulation and warmth.

“I want to,” Killer says, aware of the mess on his face and entirely unconcerned. Color opens his eye, his body rattling with the force of unsated arousal. His fingers press against Killer like he longs to pull him back in. He looks beyond desperate.

Killer can’t resist a little teasing.

“Say please.”

Bemusement crosses Color’s face. “What?”

Killer tips his head. “Say please, and I’ll suck you off.”

Color flushes deeply, expression turning petulant. He tugs against Killer’s skull and gets nowhere. Patient, Killer simpers up at him, waiting. The longer he sits here, as immovable as a statue, the more Color’s frustration becomes evident. He’s smart though and quickly caves to Killer’s proposition.

“ _Fine_. Please.”

“Please what?”

Color groans—an attempt to layer exasperation over how turned on he actually is. Killer squeezes him, and Color’s legs shake like they’re not going to hold him up for much longer.

“I… Please suck my cock, Killer.”

No matter how hard he tries to hide it, the plea is undeniably sincere, and had Killer not just gotten off twice, it would have sent another bolt of heat between his legs. As it is, his pubic area gives a light, sympathetic ache at how unfairly hot Color is like this.

Seems only right to give him something in return.

Killer pumps his cock with one hand, flashing a cutting grin.

“Want me to use teeth?”

Just as anticipated, Color’s eyes widen at that, a flush burning across his nasal aperture. Looks like he didn’t expect Killer to remember that little particular kink of his. Lucky for him, Killer has a whole array of memories dedicated just to Color and their many tussles in bed.

He revels in the mixture of regret and excited hunger on the other’s face.

“Oh, you cheeky asshole,” Color breathes, and Killer leans in close and flicks his tongue along his slit.

“ _Yeah_.”

He doesn’t press him for a response, Color’s reaction already bordering on begging.

This time, Killer doesn’t tease him with tiny licks. He takes his cock in his mouth, using his hand on his hip to tug him fractionally closer. The gratified moan urges Killer to wring more sounds out of him, and he swallows around the thick magic in his mouth. Its salty taste is utterly addictive after so many years of being deprived, and Killer is happy to familiarize himself with it once more. He lets Color gently thrust, restraint obvious in the small rocking motions.

Killer pulls away until only the head remains in his mouth. Runs his tongue over it, precome smearing across that he greedily laps up. He toys with the slit in a way that has Color’s pretty, appreciative cries increasing and then closes his mouth around the head of his dick and _sucks_.

“Killer—!” Hips thrusting forward, Color partially curls inward like it’s too much, and Killer tightens his hold on him. Another whine slips out, heavy with protest. His frame is shaking tremendously, leaning against Killer like he’s the only thing keeping him on his feet.

Deciding to be a bit merciful, he lets Color’s cock slip further into his mouth until the head brushes against the back of his false throat. He looks up, finds the other blearily gazing back down, a beautiful sight with his mouth hanging open and his expression wounded as he’s brought to the edge again. Killer smiles as much as he can around Color and then slowly pulls back, dragging his teeth against the thick magic just enough so that Color’s able to feel every point of contact.

“Ahh—Killer—” Color’s socket snaps shut, the tiny burst of almost-pain nearly too much even as he does nothing to escape. “Oh fuck, please—”

Killer moans, another tinge of arousal shooting through him at the raw neediness, and Color spasms, fingers slipping along the back of his skull. He thrusts forward, chasing the wet heat of Killer’s mouth, and Killer graciously lets him, opening his mouth wider to ensure his teeth are safely out of the way again.

This time, when Color bumps along the back of his throat, Killer leans into the thrust and swallows, taking him further. Color’s cock twitches, his taste slowly overpowering any traces of Killer’s own cum as Killer swallows again. It stuffs him full, stealing his breath and voice, and he loves it. Tears brim along his sockets and spill over, running down either side of his face. His eyes close as more of Color’s dick edges in until his pelvis is pressed up against Killer’s face. He grabs hold of Color’s other hip with his free hand, more out of a desire to hold onto something than to control the shallow thrusts.

Hearing Color swallow loudly is such a satisfying sound.

“I forgot how good you are at this,” he says between reedy breaths, and Killer hums. It’s wonderfully nostalgic to have all of Color filling his mouth and pushing into his throat. His tongue is pressed down by the hot magic, and Color grinds against it as he continues to rock back and forth, his cock using him up as he focuses on his own release.

Killer does nothing to try to get the upper hand, content to let Color take whatever he demands if it means he’s the one who gets to serve him. His pliancy must lend towards that end as Color swears under his breath and fucks his throat faster.

“Nng—god, Killer, you’re so good. So, so good h- _ahh_ — O-oh fuck, you just— I can’t—”

Color’s praises slip into mindless, sweet babbling as he approaches that edge. Killer welcomes it all, working his throat around him and savoring every thin and choked-off moan as he winds Color up.

He hears one final plea, a simple utterance of his name, and Killer opens his eyes and locks them with the hazy eyelight watching him back.

Color’s breath hitches, his cock swelling on Killer’s tongue, and then he’s coming, spilling hot and thick down Killer’s throat. Killer swallows it all down, sockets half-lidded as he keeps his gaze trained on Color’s face. Color doesn’t look away, shaking with his release. It’s no wonder Killer ever found him beautiful.

With a final grind of his hips, he slowly pulls out, his cock leaving a trail of cum that dribbles out of Killer’s mouth. It’s a thorough mess, wet and glistening and begging for tribute.

Killer takes the base of the cock in his hand, and Color gives a discouraging whine. As tantalizing an idea it is to see how far he could push Color with overstimulation, Killer is exhausted. Now that the urgency of the heat is leaving them both, the desire to crawl into bed and crash is making itself known.

Quick and easy, Killer presses a soft kiss to the head of Color’s dick as it twitches feebly in his grip. He leans back and catches Color’s eye again.

“You okay?”

His friend nods, bones trembling as he recovers. “Yeah... Yeah, that was the last of it. I don’t think I’m in heat anymore.”

As soon as Killer lets go of his cock, Color hastily dismisses it from the chilly air. Killer falls back onto his ass, his knees bent as he dangles his arms over them. “Good. I don’t know about you, but I’m craving a serious nap right now.”

Color laughs tiredly. “Me too. Let’s see if we can get Nightmare to let us out now.”

“Sounds perfect. I can ream that asshole’s asshole for locking us in here.”

“Pretty sure even you couldn’t get your dick up right now,” Color says, and Killer slumps, defeated. He might have a point, but just because Killer is too worn right now doesn’t mean he can’t let Nightmare have it later. He’s gonna have that bastard crying long before he’s through with him. The thought brings a satisfied smile to his face.

“Whatever you’re planning, I don’t want to know,” Color remarks, busying himself with grabbing his shorts and tugging them back on.

Killer gives his back a sly grin. “That’s a rather bold assumption there—that I’d tell you what I’m planning for the boss.” He pauses, his elbow propped on his knee as he rests his chin in his hand. “Unless you secretly wanna hear all about it? Doesn’t hurt to be _curious_ ,” he singsongs.

“Hard pass,” Color retorts, throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder, as he fiddles with the waistband.

“All I’m saying is it wouldn’t kill you to be a little open-minded.”

Color laughs dryly, more a puff of air than anything. “Hah, “open-minded.” I get it. Because I have two holes in my head. Thanks, buddy, that joke really tickled my funny bone.”

“That’s not the only bone I’m willing to tickle,” Killer says.

Ignoring him, Color turns, and Killer gives his disheveled state an appreciative onceover.

Sweat dots Color’s forehead, shimmering, and he wipes it away. The multicolored flames glowing in his skull and across his chest flicker and shine in the dim light, making Killer’s fingers itch to run along it.

“We should probably clean ourselves up before any napping.”

Color’s words have Killer tipping his head back as he resists the urge to complain. He knows there’s no arguing with that. He’s spent one too many mornings waking up with his bones grimy and disgusting after a good fuck. Nightmare’s pretty much set a precedent that everyone who fucks in his bed has to shower immediately afterwards. Or at least, that’s something he holds to only if he himself hasn’t been fucked through the mattress, like the first time the four of them fell into bed together.

Killer softens at the memory. They need a repeat performance of that and soon.

For now, though, their first order of business once they find a way out of this cursed room is to shower. Killer plans to never step foot in here again—for a whole day at least. Maybe he can convince Cross to read that book to him to switch things up a bit. Preferably with Dream and Nightmare also with them.

He throws Color a pleading look. “Help me up, habibi.”

Color sighs with profound exasperation, but even still, he steps close and reaches down. “You gotta give me your hand if you want me to pull you up.”

“Can’t,” Killer says, slouching to the side. “I’m too weak.”

“Give me your fucking hand, you dramatic bitch.”

Killer gasps.

“Oh my god, Color, if you wanted to hold my hand so bad, you could’ve just asked nicely.” He places his hand in his, snickering as Color rolls his eye, and then he yelps at the force with which Color yanks him to his feet.

Swooning against his chest, Killer beams at the swiftness with which the other’s arm wraps around him to keep him steady. “My hero,” he says against Color’s shoulder, and his friend gives him a none too subtle push back.

“Save it for one of your boyfriends,” he snarks, and once he’s sure Killer isn’t actually going to tumble back to the floor like a ragdoll, he turns and heads over to the door.

“Think it’s unlocked?”

Color shrugs. “If not, your boyfriend should be loitering around close enough to let us out.” Before Killer can say a word, Color holds up a finger.

“ _Don’t_. Spare me from your kinky bullshit with him. I’m gonna pretend for the sake of my sanity that he wasn’t listening.”

Killer laughs. “Sorry, do we need to rewind back to a little while ago when you were moaning about him eavesdropping on us fucking? I seem to recall a certain someone getting hot over that particular fantasy.”

It’s a treat to see how fast Color’s face lights up. “Shut _up_. I did that for your benefit, asshole, not mine.”

When Killer continues to grin wide, brows waggling, Color gives him his back.

“I-it was the heat talking. I don’t find your weird, goopy boyfriend attractive.”

“Uh huh.”

“Fucking shut your damn mouth and get over here, Killer.”

“Ooh, demanding, aren’t we?” Despite the desire to pursue his line of ribbing, Killer decides to drop it for now and give him a break. His skull looks a degree short from combusting—ironic, given the permanent flames leaping from either side of his head.

Color tries the door and predictably still finds it locked. He glances over at Killer, grimaces, and then knocks instead. It’s obvious from the way he’s screwed up his face that he’s hoping no one will answer.

Nothing brings Killer greater joy in that moment than hearing the door handle unlatch and seeing Color’s thin hope melt just like that.

“Looks like we had someone listening in the wings after all.”

“I’m gonna rip him to pieces where he stands.”

“No need to worry about that, babe. I plan on extracting vengeance for the both of us later.”

Laughing at Color’s deepening grimace, Killer faces the door as it swings open and grins wide at the annoyed eyelight glaring up at him. “Oh _hiya_ , boss. We were just talking about you.”

Nightmare doesn’t budge from the entrance. He folds his arms and gives him a long onceover. Assessing him carefully, noting his disheveled appearance. The teal eyelight turns its critical gaze on Color, passing over him with that same quiet critique.

Whatever conclusion Nightmare comes to, he seems to be unsurprised.

“I trust you’re both finished?”

Color scoffs but doesn’t comment.

“Yeah, we finished alright.” Killer winks.

“Ugh.” Nightmare’s open distaste surprisingly helps Killer step back from a ledge he didn’t know he’d been standing on until just then. The boss showing emotion is much better than if he were to act cold and distant like he would if he were truly hurt or angry.

Because, as it is, with the three of them here now together and despite his mock threat to make Nightmare pay his dues, Killer realizes that there’s no denying he’s crossed a line here. Doesn’t matter how he shapes it or makes excuses for his actions, valid or not.

He… Killer has never wanted to hurt his lovers. He’d sooner take the hit than to let any of them ever feel pain because of him. He can only hope that what Color said about Nightmare “giving his blessing” is true, if only because he knew just how bad of a shitstorm they’d stumbled into.

Killer tries to quiet the small hope within him that everything will be alright. He can’t latch onto that relief just yet. Not until he’s certain his actions—though unintentional and beyond his control—haven’t permanently undone his relationship with the others.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if that’s the case.

Nightmare’s eye flicks down to his soul for a brief instant. Killer can’t bring himself to follow his gaze to see if the shape has changed at all. He just _can’t_. When Nightmare looks back at him, he continues on as if nothing is wrong, but there’s something beneath it all. Something that might be understanding.

Greedily, Killer latches on to it. The small hope grows a little stronger.

“In that case,” Nightmare says, “I implore you both to take a shower. You severely need one.”

“Sounds less like an invitation and more like an order,” Color retorts, unaware of the silent conversation that’s just occurred in front of him. Despite himself, Killer’s mouth quirks. Never mind how his friend was just moaning about a shower two seconds ago.

Nightmare levels Color with a sharp smile, eye narrowed. It’s a familiar sight, one that Killer has seen a thousand times. It doesn’t help that Nightmare gave him the same smile the other day before pinning him against his desk in his study. Tacking on lust to the mess what he’s already dealing with really isn’t helping his case, and Killer doesn’t stop the slight peevishness that rises at his own idiotic libido. Normally, he’d welcome such a distraction, but right now, it only makes him sick.

Fuck, what if he’s messed up his relationship with Nightmare, Cross, and Dream forever?

“Oh, Color,” Nightmare is saying as Killer has an internal crisis. His voice is falsely benign. “If you wish for me to order you around, then perhaps you should consider correcting your attitude.”

“Maybe I’d rather you do that for me,” comes the immediate response, smooth like butter.

Is Killer dead? Dreaming? It must be one of those two because there’s no way he could possibly be hearing his ex and one of his boyfriends flirting with each other.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nightmare says brusquely, attention switching to him. “I don’t need to read your emotions to know the direction your mind’s wandered to.”

Killer’s mouth curves into a flimsy smile.

“Well, if that’s the case,” he begins, swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat. God, he hopes he’s not about to cry. That would suck worse than anything. No sense in generating sympathy he doesn’t deserve. Thickly, he says, “Why don’t you enlighten me on what I’m thinking right now? Just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Killer senses his expression waver, sees how Nightmare’s eyelight shrinks in shock, and he knows the monster instantly understands what the usually flirty words _really_ mean, as if Killer has spoken them out loud.

_Tell me if I’ve majorly fucked up. Tell me if I can still fix this. I’m so fucking scared of losing you because of my own stupidity, and I don’t know what to do. Please, Nightmare. Please don’t leave me. Please._

Killer doesn’t think he’s ever seen his boss look so stricken before. There’s raw worry evident in his expression as he sorts through Killer’s negativity.

“I…”

Huh. Looks like even the King himself can be at a loss for words. Something wet runs down Killer’s face, and he doesn’t know if he’d rather it be tears or the liquid hatred that’s plagued him for so long. Neither of them are things he wants Nightmare to see.

“Listen,” Color pipes up behind him, hesitant, “you guys look like you have some things to talk through… namely without me. So where’s your bathroom?”

The last bit is directed at Nightmare whose eyelight continues to bore into Killer for another few long seconds, silent promise in his stare, though for the life of him, Killer can’t quite pick up on what that promise _is_. The nervousness increases.

Nightmare glances back over at Color, looks to Killer a final time, and then abruptly turns on his heel, heading towards the doors of the library. His tentacles lash behind him. “Follow me. You can use Killer’s shower.”

Color huffs, echoing Nightmare’s words with a sarcastic tone, but it’s clearly just for show at this point. Killer knows that his friend has no real animosity against Nightmare. It’s for his own benefit instead. Something simple and familiar to focus on so that Killer doesn’t spiral.

He’s never been more thankful for that. Color squeezes his shoulder, smile weak as his concern returns. Killer doesn’t quite have it in him to reassure his friend, but he tries all the same.

The three of them traipse out of the library. Killer is more than capable of leading Color to his room, but he gets an inkling that Nightmare’s trying to find a reason to linger without having to explicitly state why. He narrows his eyes at the back of the boss’s skull, uneasiness and uncertainty warring within him even as he attempts to appear calm. No sense in worrying the others, though it’s a given that Nightmare has detected his distress.

Maybe that’s why he’s lingering.

He glances over at Color and is relieved at the obvious lack of turmoil that Killer’s fighting. He’s long since learned how to gauge Color’s feelings by the shape of his flames, its flaring somehow intrinsically tied to him, and right now, they imitate a soothing dance. It brings a smile to his face at the proof of Color’s mellow happiness, and when Color looks back at him, Killer attempts a half-hearted wink. Color’s mouth quirks. It’s a clear win in Killer’s book and another tiny distraction that he’s thankful for.

They arrive at the bathroom without fanfare, and he offers to let Color hop in the shower first with the promise of grabbing him a spare change of his own clothes in the meantime. Despite not having the ability to read Killer like Nightmare can, Color still knows him intimately. He meets Killer’s shaky grin head-on, concern furrowing his brow, and nods. After a wordless, grim-faced exchange with Nightmare, Color shuts the bathroom door behind him with a firm click.

His friend taken care of for the moment, Killer turns his attention to the monster appraising him with a critical eye.

Nightmare doesn’t back down from the intense stare Killer gives him and matches it with the same intensity. It’s enough to make him repress a shudder. The light in the hall catches on the subtle downturn of Nightmare’s mouth.

Despite not seeing any hint of anger on his lover’s face, Killer’s unsure how far he’s stepped out of line here. He can’t read Nightmare as fluidly as the other monster reads him. At the very least, he owes Night an explanation—an apology—even with how swiftly he lost control on the afternoon’s events.

Knowing that it’s best to get this conversation out of the way, Killer sighs.

“Look, bo— _Nightmare_. What happened today… Color and I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” Killer stops at the words, frowning even as Nightmare gives him a look that shows no ire.

“It would seem that even after locking the door with a key that I had _purposely_ secreted away, mind you—” Killer flushes a bit at the stern tone Nightmare adopts, grinning crookedly. The exasperation fades from Nightmare just as quickly, replaced with regret. “Even with that in mind and the warnings I put in place about the book, I should’ve known better than to think that was a safe location for such a cursed object. Today serves as proof that I should have burnt it long ago.”

A lull falls between them, neither comfortable in the tense atmosphere. Killer’s feet shift against the stone floor. A thought comes to mind.

Hesitantly, he asks, “So why didn’t you?”

To his surprise, Nightmare startles, glancing away in an unusual show of embarrassment. Killer straightens at the sight.

“I… suppose it has… sentimental value. To me, that is.”

He blinks at him, mouth working. “Holy shit,” he manages.

Nightmare glares at him. Killer’s mind races.

“Sentimental value, huh? You’ve used it before, haven’t you?” He searches his face, hope climbing at the possibility that he might be absolved after all. Then, as Nightmare’s cheeks just barely darken against the sludge, Killer gasps as it clicks. “Shit, boss, who was the lucky monster that got to share that special moment with you?”

Nightmare’s eye narrows, his tentacles snapping in the air behind him, points threatening.

“It’s none of your concern,” he hisses, but as soon as he says that, he grimaces, seeming to regret his harsh tone. Drawing in a deep breath, he gives Killer an apologetic look. Killer shifts again uneasily, wanting to console him but also not knowing how he should react. If his comfort would even be welcomed.

Nightmare’s expression softens further.

“Some things are not to be shared by me, at least not without the other party’s consent. But… perhaps it’s a story that we’ll be willing to tell you in the future.”

Killer’s previous tension melts away, replaced with a stinging fondness for the monster who’s carved a place inside his soul. It pulsates, veering into something he’s never been quite able to put into words himself. It doesn’t matter anyways because Nightmare’s eye widens at the nonverbal confession.

This time, Killer’s smile doesn’t wobble. “No problem, boss. I’m a patient monster.”

Nightmare watches him for a moment, contemplative as he studies Killer. A beat later, the words seem to register, and he snorts. Says, “Yes, you’ve demonstrated as much before.”

 _Oh_? Well, now, isn’t _that_ an unexpected but welcome surprise. Not Nightmare admitting Killer has patience but rather the circumstances Killer’s pretty sure he’s alluding to. Nightmare gives him a knowing look, the glow of purple on his cheekbones more visible. Killer nearly preens with satisfaction… and sighs with overwhelming relief. For one, it’s clear Nightmare holds no ill will against him and is offering to excuse today’s actions on account of his own past experience. His deliberate attempt to move the conversation into something lighter is obvious proof of that.

Were he speaking with anyone else, the anxiety would still be there. But Killer knows Nightmare intimately, knows how rare it is for him to drop a subject if it bothers him in any way. He’s always been upfront and vocal about his opinions. If he had a problem with Killer fucking Color today due to—unbelievably—a life or death scenario, then he would tell it to him straight. Not conceal his hurt or pretend otherwise. It’s that fact alone that erases the nausea from Killer’s false gut and lets him breathe easy.

Not for the first time is he reminded of just how lucky he is to be with someone like Nightmare. His soul overflows with gratitude.

On another note, though—now that Killer’s not rife with grief and anxious worry— he’s able to focus on the abnormality of the boss willingly mentioning the times Killer has “exercised” patience. It’s like stepping back into his own shoes again, and Killer enjoys the memories that Nightmare has so helpfully brought to mind.

Maybe he’ll have time to relive those memories and make new ones, preferably later tonight when he’s a bit more perky. There’s still the matter concerning what Dream and Cross will say to him fucking Color, and he needs to make sure he hasn’t hurt them either.

He stuffs his hands in his jacket to hide their restless twitching. “So, if you’re familiar with the book, then I guess you know what happens when someone reads it.”

Nightmare grunts. “More than aware. And you needn’t worry. I wouldn’t have locked you and your friend in there if I hadn’t decided to let you two sort out the mess you’d wandered into.” He takes a small step forward. “I apologize for shutting you in that room. I’m still uncertain of the spell’s power and if it reaches others outside of those who have read it, but... I thought it would be best not to take any chances. And while I know you would be more than willing to let me help you with your heat, I’m not so sure Color would feel the same. Since you were lovers in the past, I knew the faster you realized you needed to sort out your situation together, the quicker the curse would lift.”

Nightmare takes a long breath, emotions flicking across his face too quickly for Killer to catch them. It doesn’t matter because the tense way he holds himself and the tentacles slightly curling around him like an unconscious defensive maneuver gives Killer a big enough clue.

It leaves him restless. And not on his own behalf.

Haltingly, Nightmare continues, “Although childish in purpose, the book very much does hold truth regarding it’s fatal potency. So, when it came down to you fucking an ex or me losing you forever, I knew I’d much rather choose the former.”

The words fall heavy between them. Killer finds himself at a loss of what to say. “Night…” he whispers.

Nightmare clears his throat, the flush on his face burning brighter across his nasal aperture. “I hope you can forgive me for locking you in. Given what happened last time, I— Well, it’s no excuse, but I suppose I panicked, and—”

Killer quickly puts an end to his rambling, striding towards Nightmare and pulling him into a deep kiss. The sound Nightmare makes is muffled, and Killer grips his shoulders. If he ever needed reassurance about how Nightmare feels about him, this is more than enough. He licks into his mouth, tongue slicking against his lover’s, and Nightmare softly groans.

He pulls back just enough, a final question burning in his mind.

“Do Cross and Dream...?”

“I’ve already informed them of the situation,” Nightmare says, voice a little pitched. His eye is fixed on Killer’s mouth like he has plans. “It’s not the most ideal scenario, but they more than understood the reason why. They’ve asked me to tell you that it’s alright. Both of them understand.”

Killer chokes back the funny tickling in his throat. He coughs out a laugh, relieved, and says, “Well, that’s— That sure is something.”

“Cross also requested that you not go rooting through locked rooms like this again. Dream echoed this sentiment, albeit a bit more cordially.”

This time, Killer’s laugh is much more free. “You’re paraphrasing. C’mon, Nightmare, don’t give me the kid’s version. Tell me all about how annoyed Cross’ texts were. Gets me hotter than nothing else.”

“Absolutely not.” The points of his teeth glint in the soft light, doing nothing to sever Killer’s weeping libido. “I wouldn’t want to spoil his frustration before he comes home. I’m sure you two will have plenty to talk about.”

“Pfft. Who said anything about talking?”

He’s treated to the long, careful perusal Nightmare gives him, teal eyelight shining with amusement.

“You already seem well-satiated from your frolicking with Color,” he says. “Did you not have a nice time?”

Killer’s unable to curb his immediate response, excitement rising within him, and Nightmare’s brow furrows. Not giving him a chance to back away, Killer grabs a fistful of the front of Nightmare’s hoodie, walking the both of them over to the wall with Nightmare stumbling. His breath catches as Killer shoves him against the wall, socket wide as he stares up at Killer. His hands grip Killer’s wrist, but interestingly, he doesn’t push him away.

 _Very_ interesting.

Killer decides to test just how far down that interest goes, and with his other hand, he wraps it around the delicate bones of Nightmare’s neck. Watching the beautiful teal eyelight shake as Nightmare shudders is the best damn show Killer has even been treated to. He laughs, soft, the tip of his thumb rubbing the crevices in the bones while his fingers curl in further. Nightmare utters a quiet noise, his own hands gripping hard around Killer’s wrist like he needs something to hold onto.

What Killer wouldn’t give to fuck him right here right now. If only he wasn’t on a time constraint for however fast Color showers, which has proven to be questionably speedy in the past. The feeble ache in his pubis also protests at his desire for another round.

Still. Just because Killer has to resign himself to some uncalled-for edging doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the pretty sight before him now. And there’s nothing telling him he can’t wind Nightmare up just a little in the meantime.

“That’s a pretty look on you,” he murmurs, thumb lightly digging in between the sensitive vertebrae. Nightmare’s breath hitches again, and Killer eyes him with satisfaction. The hint of purple on his cheeks sharpens with each passing second. His eyelight, so often hardened with imperiousness, shines softly around the edges, staring up at Killer with the defensive shields lowered. Behind that though is a challenge, daring Killer to see how far he would go. Nightmare tilts his head up, bares his neck even more, and lightly leans into Killer’s grip.

It’s not submission. Killer is intimately familiar with that, has experienced it with Dream and Cross. But when it comes to Nightmare, Killer finds the roles reversed. Nightmare doesn’t have to say a word at all, can command him with just a single look, and the one he gives Killer now sears with power. He’s challenging him to push past the restraint, to squeeze his hand and cut off Nightmare’s unnecessary air.

Killer’s own stutters through the next inhale, gutted and thrilled. His eyes are wide, chest shaking, and like the moon slowly peeking through the clouds, a smile emerges on Nightmare’s face, teeth gleaming.

Fuck. Killer swore he wouldn’t be able to go another round after that heat exhausted him, but his body seems severely tempted to say otherwise.

All at once, the shower cuts off, and the tension breaks. Killer holds Nightmare against the wall for a final moment and then lets go. His hand slips down from his neck to rest in the somewhat safe vicinity of his hip. Nightmare’s expression remains pleased.

“Perhaps we can continue this when you are well rested,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to put…” his eye flicks down Killer’s body “...undue strain on you.”

“Yeah,” Killer rasps, voice sounding surprisingly fucked out like he’s the one who’d been mere seconds away from being choked against the wall. And that’s a thought that only adds to the uncomfortable ache between his legs. He swallows, but a thin noise still escapes, and Nightmare gives an amused smirk.

“Rest up,” he says— _demands—_ and slips away from the wall, heading down the hall. Killer avidly watches him, gritting his teeth as he tries to ignore the haze of magic swirling in his inlet. Nightmare pauses, back still facing him.

He says over his shoulder, “I trust you’ll come find me when you are ready.”

Killer can just see the hint of his smirk, and he breathes out a tired laugh. “If I have it my way, you won’t have to wait long.”

A quick thought occurs to him, and before Nightmare can escape, Killer calls, “Hey, boss. Do me a favor, will you?” He grins cheekily when Nightmare’s tentacles tense behind him. In a low voice, soft enough just for the request to be heard between the two of them, Killer says, “When you touch yourself to the thought of me fucking you… say my name.”

A few moments pause follows Killer’s words as Nightmare doesn’t respond. Killer doesn’t need to see his face to know that gorgeous purple blush is there, and he rocks back on his heels, supremely chuffed. When Nightmare speaks again, it’s strangled, the words stiff around the edges, and the sound hooks behind Killer’s pubic symphysis like a physical tug.

“...I’ll be sure to do that then.”

With those parting words, Nightmare leaves, and Killer hums happily. He quickly heads to his room to fetch the promised change of clothes for Color. It’s a good thing they’re both the same height, and after a quick check through his closet, he finds suitable clothes for both of them to wear. Just as fast, he hastens back to the bathroom and knocks once on the door. Color’s head pokes out after a second, spares another second to shoot Killer an unimpressed look for the wait, and then grabs the proffered set from Killer’s arms, slamming the door shut.

Killer’s never been one for patience, and he jitters in place against the wall, drumming his fingers against the stone, and checking his phone. The restlessness in his system luckily has nothing to do with the heat or his DT for once. Instead, his soul swirls against his chest, the heart beating with increasing speed.

It’s excitement that pours hotly through his bones and makes him bounce on his heels.

He wonders how Nightmare plans to spend his afternoon. if he’ll just use his hands or reach over for a toy to help him along instead. Both are equally tantalizing to consider, which is what Killer does at length.

Or well, he _would_ if he didn’t have a guest. At the very least, he should see Color back to his own home, and Killer is a bit remiss to end their time together so soon. He has an idea that what happened today won’t change their friendship at all. As much as he likes Color, they ended their short term relationship for a reason years back, and Killer isn’t about to try to fix an unbroken thing. Besides, he knows Color isn’t interested in that either.

Five minutes later, the bathroom door opens, and steam billows out, revealing a freshly cleaned Color. Killer looks up from his phone and waggles his brows at him. Rolling his eyes, Color approaches, a soft smile hidden in the curve of his mouth.

“Everything alright?”

Killer nods. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Color’s smile widens. “Good. I’m glad. Well, the shower’s all yours.”

“Sweet. Didja save me any bathwater to soap myself up with?”

Colors snickers, a rare feat that instantly brightens the hall. “Go get clean, already. You smell like sweat and jizz.”

Dutifully pushing off the wall, Killer heads into the bathroom, saying, “That’s just my natural scent, sweetheart. I’m always covered in one if not the other.” His eyelight flicks over his unkempt appearance in the mirror. “Sometimes both if I’m lucky.”

“Disgusting,” Color predictably remarks, voice growing distant. “I’ll be sure to not touch anything in your bedroom for the sake of my own health.”

“The toys are in the top drawer of the dresser!” He calls out after him before shutting the door.

Despite the warmth of the room, Killer rushes through his shower, plenty tired of any form of heat for the day. In short order he’s cleaned and dressed and returns to his bedroom to find Color sitting back on the bed despite swearing he wouldn't touch anything. Guess fatigue won out after all.

“Would ya like an escort?” Killer’s only half-joking. It certainly looks like he needs one.

Color isn’t amused. “I’d ask if you meant that in the sense of escorting me back home, but honestly, I never have any clue what’s genuine and what’s innuendo with you.”

Killer pouts. “Innuendo can be genuine,” he protests, walking over to him.

With a teasing hand, he reaches out and runs a finger down the soft material of the borrowed shirt Color is wearing. He looks good in Killer’s clothes, that’s for damn sure.

“We could always reenact this afternoon. Maybe bring along a certain book to help set the mood.”

Color grabs his hand before it can dip past the waistband of his shorts. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather not inflict us with another deadly curse again. It’s not my idea of a fun activity.”

“Well, fuck you too, I guess,” Killer retorts playfully, but they both grin at each other. Color huffs a quiet laugh and interlocks his fingers with Killer’s.

“Listen,” he says, a bit hesitant, “about today… I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was interested in starting something between us again.”

Killer smirks. “What, you mean the heat that made us fuck like rabbits without either of our consent isn’t the start of our new relationship? I’m crushed.”

Color laughs again, this time with greater relief, and he smiles gratefully at Killer.

“I figured you’d understand. Thanks, Killer.”

“Anytime, babe.”

Leaning down, slow in case Color chooses to move away, Killer kisses him, soft and sweet, and Color meets the kiss just as happily. It’s something to mark the closure of their wild afternoon, a final goodbye to everything that happened today, which will hopefully never happen again. At least not outside of Killer’s dreams. He thinks he’s still entitled to those.

Color sighs into the kiss and pulls back, flush high on his cheeks. Killer presses a kiss to both, loving how it makes Color blush brighter, and the familiar scowl returns to his face.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun. Take me back home now, please. I think your boss believes I've overstayed my welcome.”

“Never,” Killer says, but he opens a portal to the universe Color has called his home. “Want me to carry you across your threshold?”

“Pretty sure that tradition only applies if we’re married.”

Killer shrugs. “Best friend seems close enough to me. We’re practically attached at the hip. You can’t get rid of me, sweetheart.”

Color opens his mouth, the words “Watch me” cut short as Killer swoops him into his arms and Color shrieks.

“Killer, you ass! Put me down!”

Color twists in his grip, shouting, and Killer laughs as he walks them both through the portal to Color’s home. He thinks he’ll hang with him a bit longer just to savor their time together that’s free of any spell-induced thoughts. He’s missed this jovial teasing between them that ends in playful fights and harmless jabs. His soul beats rhythmically, the ever-present shape of an upside-down heart stark against his chest. It’s a reassurance Killer never gets tired of seeing, an affirmation that he’s better now, and he’s found something good in his life worth holding onto.

As he walks into Color’s house, fake protests still ringing in his ears, he decides that he’ll enjoy however long Color permits him to stay—whether they nap or not—before being willingly kicked out.

After all, he has someone to look forward to when he goes back home, and it would be rude to keep him waiting.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Dubcon Warning:** Neither Killer nor Color really have a choice in the matter since they are hit with a heat curse, but it helps that they have had a relationship in the past and are willing to give each other a hand with no hard feelings afterwards. Everything between them clears up by the end.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ✨


End file.
